I A Gossip on a Sutherland Hill-side 293 



where is he ? Trotting slowly and painfully round 

 the swell. Again — crack ! — slap ! — what a stumble ! 

 He is our own ; try as he may, he can never win 

 up the brae. See how the hinds sniff and start 

 aside as they scent the blood, and how the young 

 stags turn and turn again to ask his guidance. In 

 vain ! one staggering effort to cross the burn, and 

 then down with a crashing stumble, — never to rise 

 again ! 



' Another and a bigger, indeed, Donald. Ten 

 points, and as fat as an ox ! ' 



' Ay, sir ! he's none of our deer ; he's up from the 

 woods.' 



'See if he has a forked tail, Donald. Perhaps 

 he is an Arkle deer.' 



' Hoot-toot, sir ! you don't believe in such old 

 wives' stories, I know ! ' 



' 'Deed, I don't know, Donald. I laughed at the 

 fancy till I found an explanation of it worth the 

 recording. The tail of the Arkle deer was not 

 exactly forked, but from its root depended a tuft of 

 coarse hair ; and in warm weather, or when the stag 

 was heated in the chase, this tuft became matted 

 together, and produced the semblance of a forked 

 tail, thick and broad at the root, and divided into 

 two parts at its termination, the hair forming one 

 division and the real tail the other.' 



' I can weel believe it, sir ; but we must hurry 

 with the gralloch, or it will be dark before we put up 

 the stag.' 



